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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/30050559">Family</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Learning_to_draw/pseuds/Learning_to_draw'>Learning_to_draw</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dead by Daylight (Video Game), Halloween Movies - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Canon-Typical Violence, Danny Is A Dick, Established GhostFrank, Eventual Smut, Everybody is Bad at Feelings, F/M, Frank Makes Bad Life Choises, Gender-neutral Reader, Identity Issues, M/M, Michael Myers is HORRIBLE at Feelings, Michael is a fucking dick, Morally Grey Reader, Not Beta Read, Obsessive Behavior, Past Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Past Frank Morrison/Julie, Protective Frank Morrison, Protective Michael, Reader Had a Bad Life, Reader Is Part of The Legion, Reader is a killer, Suggestive Themes, Time Skips, Trust Issues, We die like Survivors, slowburn? i don't know her</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-16 02:47:23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,443</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/30050559</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Learning_to_draw/pseuds/Learning_to_draw</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"The Legion is your family."</p><p>Frank used to say that to you when you were a homeless and hungry kid, when you had nothing but a rusty knife and a broken mind. He never lied when he said it, because you would always have a family in him. He repeated those words until you believed them, until you could almost taste the freedom and the sense of belonging.</p><p>And then the Fog happened.</p><p>[One-Shot collection without chronological order in which Frank Morrison and everyone else in The Fog watches you grow from a weak willed teenager into The Shape's life partner]</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Danny "Jed Olsen" Johnson | The Ghost Face/Frank Morrison, Frank Morrison &amp; Reader, Michael Myers/Reader, Michael Myers/You</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>59</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. The Weakest Link</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Warning tags for this Chapter:<br/>-Murder attempt and suggestions. Then an actual Murder.<br/>-Implied stalking.</p>
    </blockquote><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>You were the Weak Link in their eyes.<br/>That didn't change the fact that you were untouchable.<br/>[4/15]</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Everyone knew you were the weakest link in The Legion.</p><p>You were a small, weak, scrawny kid. With no muscle, a short stature that leaved much to be desired, almost no strength, a miserable short range with your rusty, old, broken blade and an imperfect Feral Frenzy that would always leave you screaming and crying in pain and frustration. Everyone knew that you struggled to hook the survivors, to pursuit and kill them, and that the only reason that The Entity never managed to take a bite out of your soul was because you always managed to do the bare minimum in The Trials. Nobody knew how did you ever manage to make it that far, if your sense of survival was that strong of if you had a blood lust so strong that managed the impossible with such a weak body. Some killers even believed that you were so useless and pathetic that the reason you managed sacrifices was because survivors with weak hearts offered themselves. A disgrace in the already weakest group of killers, they were just waiting for the day you were going to get discarded like a broken toy.</p><p>The Legion were killers that were annoying at best and worthless at worst. Strong for being a group, but together they couldn't do everything, since all of you were only humans. Weak in Trials because they were all on their own. Only a force together, but incomparable to someone as powerful as The Oni or something as creepy like The Blight. Just a bunch of idiotic teenagers that managed to get access to The Fog by the bad choices of the leader. And of the Five members, you got the role of being the most useless.</p><p>You were the weakest link, that, they knew. You were a shame that was fortunate enough to be called a Killer, that, they believed strongly with not an ounce of hesitation</p><p>That didn't change the fact that you were fucking untouchable.</p><p>The leader, Frank Morrison, was <em>protective </em>of you<em>.</em> No, being protective was an understatement. He was fucking <strong><em>feral</em></strong> about you. Everyone knew that he was the main reason the group of young teenagers managed to find themselves on the Fog. It was not a secret that he was just a delinquent with severe anger issues that nobody wanted, changing foster families like it was a game of tennis that he wanted to win. He murdered a Janitor who tried to touch Julie in a really inappropriate way, and made the rest of The Legion finish the job -Nobody knew except from Frank that you were the only one who stabbed with hate and vengeful intentions, who stabbed the face because it used to be in your nightmares, whose gross and big hands still make you shudder with just remembering-.</p><p>Frank was lucky enough to find himself in a relationship with the Entity's Pet, the killer with black clothing, and that was the only reason nobody ever tried shit with him. Because fighting with Frank Morrison was messing with Danny Johnson's property, and pissing Ghost Face was asking to be tortured and murdered 1000 times over without him being punished. What did that mean? That if anyone said anything remotely harmful, if someone ever touched you or even breathed close to you without your consent, they would have an angry leader screaming curses with a knife ready and a protective feral attitude. And if they ever touched Frank in an effort to defend themselves, then it would start shit with Ghost Face, and if they tried to even <strong>glare</strong> the stalker killer, then the Entity would put their spider foot down and they would get fucked over without Frank and Danny getting into trouble since the Entity would obviously have a favoritism problem. It wasn't worth it, not at all.</p><p>Not being with Frank would not make it any easier, too. If your leader was busy in a trial or if he was closed off in his room getting his brains fucked by Danny, you were with the Legion with guaranteed protection. The Legion were weak, but such an annoying mess together. No matter who killer wanted to mess with you, if Frank was not with you, all the rest of The Legion were usually there for you. And while the leader was untouchable on his own, to deal with the rest of them for a chance to mess with you was not worth it. Julie was protective of you almost as much as Frank -Ghost Face always growled in possessive jealousy whenever she claimed jokingly that Frank and her were your parents, since you were the minor of the 5-, and Joey and Susie were always together at your side, making every situation a messy problem. Nobody could get close to you without having more than one knife at their throat. Annoying and so not worth it.</p><p>And then, if those two options were occupied, Ghost Face could be seen with you. While you two weren't the closest of friends, it was obvious that you two shared quite the bond. Before Danny and Frank started dating, the stalker usually went for you to exchange information since learning everything about Morrison was quite difficult in his realm with 5 set of eyes in a single place. Frank had his room in the only room without windows, and that made the stalking a frustrating mess for Ghost Face. It all started with sharing information, then the subject you both had changed to favorite horror movies, and from that to lewd jokes and ways to mess with the Leader. Danny didn't truly care for you in a personal sense -you were an ally and a card in the game that was winning Frank Morrison's heart, and the serial killer could see that the delinquent saw you as a pillar of sanity in this messed up place, so no torturing you and killing you. <em><strong>Shame.</strong></em>-, but after getting his goal of getting the young leader's twisted love, he did owe you one, so protecting you whenever he had free time until you learned to grow a bone was his way to repair you. Dick.</p><p>But Frank, The Legion nor Ghost Face weren't the reason you were untouchable. Morrison could protect you every time he was with you, yes, but he was not with you all the time. He had trials to do, a gang to take care of, a boyfriend to fuck, music to listen. No, he did take good care of you, but it was not enough. Ghost Face could be an ally, but outside of the time you spent exchanging information and lewd humor, you were not with him, and on his eyes you weren't interesting enough to stalk, his Frankie gave him all the information he needed about you, thank you very much. And The Legion could stay with you as long as they could, too, but they all had their moments where everyone wanted some alone time, leaving you on your own. No, they were good, but they weren't the reason.</p><p>Because even if a killer managed to be patient enough to wait for the three main options to make a message of you, they had another thing coming for them.</p><p>
  <strong> <em>The Shape was the fucking problem.</em> </strong>
</p><p>Everyone knew Michael Myers. Tall, masked figure known for tilting his head in silent fascination and/or curiosity, and for brutally murder with his knife without an ounce of hesitation. Killers knew to not fuck with him, because he would murder you without giving a shit about the Entity, never caring about a punishment. That man was an immovable force, a masked menace, evil in human form, and even somebody like Ghost Face could admit with no problem being envious of the capacity of that mountain of a man to not give an absolute fuck. Michael was the only killer that could murder all the survivors in a span of 15 trials and get away with it. Even the Entity was tired of the man's shit, and let him do whatever he wanted.</p><p>Michael was an unapproachable man, who did what he desired whenever he wanted, and could get away with it without even blinking. Ghost Face got stabbed when he introduced himself when they crossed paths for the first time, and Myers just got a warning from an Entity. Even the most dangerous killers knew to stay away from him, because he was an unmovable force.</p><p>
  <em>And that man was always with you when nobody else was.</em>
</p><p>Nobody knew what the fuck did you do to manage to capture The Shape's attention, but the masked man became your silent bodyguard. If anybody trespassed into Michael's Realm -and that was having a death wish-, they could find you quietly talking to the man without your mask covering your face, your hand gripping his as tightly as you could. And if they ever came into the realm you shared with your Family, they would find Michael stalking you into the distance, probably trying to learn your hobbies or making sure you were okay. The man was smart. He never entered the realm when the other member of the Legion were there, or when there was just Danny and Frank -who were obviously fucking like animals since Danny had no realm to call his-. The point is that if you were ever away from your usual protectors, then you had Myers at your side or silently behind you, watching over you.</p><p>-Some people could remember fondly the absolutely mess that was founding the decapitated and furiously stabbed body of The Nightmare in the survivor's Campfire. That asshole though it would be hilarious to plague you with nightmares of that night so many years ago, night in which that Janitor tried to have his gross way with you, in the night you met Frank Morrison, when you both were a small kids. And then he tried to murder you in your dreams. The next day he got a very angry Michael Myers getting payback for trying to touch what was <em>his.</em>-</p><p>You were known in both the survivor and killer's side as the clumsiest, pathetic killer in an unforgiving chain of death and soul consumption.</p><p>You were the weakest link, yes, they knew that.</p><p>
  <strong>Didn't change the fact that you were untouchable.</strong>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Obssesion, Affection</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>You are a fragile obsession in his eyes. Your hands always shake when you hold his, and you are usually a timid mess that is unable to ask for affection like a normal person.<br/>Your love is a fragile embrace, his is a strong grip that refuses to let go.<br/>[6/15]</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Warning tags for this Chapter:<br/>-Suggestion of Murdering, and a murder attempt.<br/>-It's Michael Myers, he's a warning by himself. He's more soft towards Reader, but he's a massive dick, and nobody is safe from his mean behavior. Michael is HORRIBLE at Feelings is in the tags by a reason.<br/>-Reader will have clothing mentioned. I would usually like to make them a fully blank state, but they are in The Legion, and it's almost mandatory to be wearing clothes for winter. Everything is free, with the exception of wearing Frank's jacket and some bandages in their hands like him because I wanna convey that they and him are close. Everything outside of that is free game.<br/>-Trust Issues. It's Michael.<br/>-It is quite implied that Michael does not love the Reader, and it's only obsessed.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>You hands always shook when they held his.</p><p>Michael usually didn't mind that. He had stalked and learned enough from you to know about everything you had to offer. He knew that you were legitimately not scared of him, but that something before being taken by the Entity had made you jumpy and unable to react accordingly to contact outside of Frank. He might be seen uncaring and unmoving when you reached for him every time, but the reality is that your presence was an addictive medicine that he didn't not know how to process.</p><p>-The silent man knew he had issues. His issues had issues. The issues of his issues had even more issues. His head was a mess of voices and thoughts that he was pretty much unable to take apart. Couldn't even try order anything in his mind, so he just rolled with it. If he wanted to murder, then murder he would. If he wanted to being an absolute massive dick and stab Frank Morrison even though the Leader of the Legion was pretty much protected by Ghost Face and by means the Entity, well he would try until he fucking succeeded, thank you very much. He had his way of thinking, his way to deal with what he was given, and he really didn't care about solving his problems. He was perfectly fine with everything, to murder Laurie every time he had her in his grasp, to stay in his Realm and be an absolute massive dickhead if anybody tried to mess with him.</p><p>Michael was a man of action. An unstoppable force. And you, the cowardly kid, stared at him, drawn to him like a small bug searching for a light.</p><p><em>The Shape couldn't help but stare back</em>.-</p><p>It was quite interesting for him to hear you squeak in surprise when his hand held yours back; big, calloused fingers making sure of getting inside of the bandages to feel the soft texture of the skin of your palm. The way you immediately looked at him in embarrassment, cheeks flushed in surprise was a really cute look, even thought he would prefer to cease to exist than to admit it. Maybe that was the only thing you had going for before getting into The Fog, because outside of your cute face and your small and scrawny body, you were quite the weak killer.</p><p>"U-Um."</p><p>He tilted his head, waiting for you. It was amusing to see you squirm, to watch the way your eyes glanced timidly at the hands that were joined; your small, fragile fingers feeling the texture of his knuckles. You were the quiet and timid person, but he truly didn't mind waiting for you. He could be patient if he wanted, and time was inexistent in this strange dimension. He was okay with watching you stumble and try to find your words, because he knew that you weren't asking to let go of him.</p><p>
  <em>Wouldn't let go if you asked, anyway.</em>
</p><p>"Ah. I uh..." He saw how your eyes glanced at his face longingly, and he could already hear the question on your soft looking lips. But he still waited, because it was entertaining to see you try to voice your request. Maybe this time you could actually say what you wanted, and maybe, if he was feeling nice, would grant it. "I... <em>fuck. </em>Never mind."</p><p>Michael groaned in his head.</p><p>Your fingers stopped moving, and going by your frustrated noise, Myers concluded silently that you were beating yourself up for being such a cowardly mess. If The Shape had been a little more evil or at least more frustrated about your timid nature, he would had just taken whatever he wanted without ever asking if you consented or not. But, since he had the slightest of human decency, he just silently insulted you in your head for being an indecisive idiot. He kept gripping your hand, the other one still on his tight. With the both of you sitting in the sidewalk of Haddonfield, you had to tilt your head in order to see his masked glory. He could feel his chin touch his own neck whenever he stared at you, the height difference being quite ridiculous. He liked that fact in a weird, creepy way. If he allowed himself to be honest, if push came to shove and you ever managed to stop liking him -though he knew it wouldn't happen anytime soon, maybe never if he dared to hope-, he could overpower you easily. It wouldn't matter how fast could you move, how quick could you squirm out of his hands, none of that wouldn't even matter if he could always just walk to catch up to you panicked running.</p><p>You wouldn't escape him, no matter how much you tried.</p><p><em>You would never run away from him</em>, though.</p><p>He still stared at you. Even though you couldn't see his eyes, you knew that he was watching every move that you made. He never heard you complain once about his masked state, even though you always took your own mask out of your face in an obviously intimate sign of trust. Myers never voiced his appreciation, but you always knew that he did by the way he would silently nod and grip your body between his hands in a possessive embrace. It's not like you were ugly to be covered around him. Even if he didn't give a fuck about appearances, he could find you attractive quite easily, at least for him. Your hair was a heaven, easy to grip between his fingers; he would never get tired to grasp the locks to bring your face close to his own. Your cheeks were soft to squish and mess around with -hearing you squeak and protest in embarrassed anger was one of his favorite hobbies. He was a dick even to you, though the idea murder you was pretty much out of the question. Sometimes he was tempted, but no. Myers was not obsessed in that way. -, and your eyes were a window to your gentle, broken soul.</p><p>The Shape waited patiently, still watching the way your face decided to focus for some seconds into the ambulance on the distance. He didn't truly know what did you want to gain with watching that -Stall for time? Regain courage? What, pray tell, was the reason for you to do that? -, his head still tilted to the side in quiet confusion and strong curiosity. You usually didn't lose focus on him, and the idea annoyed him. Would not voice that, he wouldn't gain anything by that. It was just some seconds, because he found you watching again his mask with longing and fascination. He didn't blink at that, Michael just silently watched with his signature head tilt, no true physical reaction on his part.</p><p>"Okay. I can do it." He heard you say, voice low, like you were afraid of backing out at any moment and your situation was a do or die. The silent panic in your body language still didn't made him react, The Shape was still waiting for you to act and he trusted you <em>enough</em> to not try to do something stupid. His hand was still holding yours, so he felt the exact moment your soft skin leaved the grasp of his fingers and <em>oh</em>, he didn't like that-</p><p>Wait. What are you-?</p><p>
  <em>Oh.</em>
</p><p>He blinked. Did you actually just-?</p><p>Michael blinked again, making sure that he was not imagining things. Here you were, seated on his lap, eyes looking at his masked face like you were daring him to put him off you. Well, not daring exactly, your body language said that it expecting to be tossed aside like you were a rag doll. He was really tempted to just get up and watch you fall of him like a broken toy for a second, entertained by the idea of hearing your voice sound mad and/or annoyed, but the way your small, soft body was seated on top of him was a really nice view. You were a small person, that everyone knew, and the fault at that were the years of living in the streets as a homeless kid; but in Michael Myers eyes you were like a small house seated on a mountain, so tiny and dependent of the ground it found itself on. Your body felt like it belonged there, cold because of your realm against his own warm body. Your tiny form didn't feel heavy nor annoying against his strong body, so The Shape found himself not pushing you off, the hand that used to be in his tight gripping your waist without subtlety, using his hold over it to accommodate your body to feel you even closer. Yeah, that was nice.</p><p>He heard you squeak in surprise again, and he watched with amusement how your face turned again a lovely shade of red. He could feel now your head against his chest, your body so small you couldn't even reach his neck without getting on your knees. The glaring height difference made him wonder for a moment how tall you would had become if you managed to eat properly in your childhood, but he pushed away that kind of thoughts instantly. You never invaded his past and his privacy, so he wouldn't do the same, even if sometimes the idea of knowing about your younger days was a tempting offer. Besides, the way you were now let him hold you easily, his body a tall, muscular mass against your weak, scrawny one.</p><p>"Ah." The Shape heard you exhale sharply. You fell into a quiet state again, a happy, small smile visible on your face; fingers curling in your own chest. The man watched silently how your tiny form moved a little, head rubbing against his chest for some seconds, like you were searching for more warmth. He knew you weren't cold, though. Your body wasn't shivering, and even if you felt a little chilly when he touched your skin, he knew you were raised in a real cold place, the snow in your realm being a glaring evidence. He never heard you complain about being cold, so he knew you weren't. Or maybe you had become so used to it that you never bothered voicing your discomfort? I didn't matter anyway. He didn't saw your search as an annoying thing, so he found himself again not pushing you off him. You felt nice, he didn't mind. Nothing to do about that.</p><p>The man closed his eyes, and for just a second, he felt the voices in his mind go away.</p><p>"Oh, I forgot."</p><p>Michael silently sighed.</p><p>He found you staring at him with the same adoring eyes and the small smile. He liked seeing you so close to him, your tiny body fully pressed against him, both of your hands now lying on your lap. He could see his hand holding your waist, the way his big fingers were buried into your jacket -Because everyone in The Legion had clothes, and of <em>fucking course</em> you had one of Frank's spare jackets to protect yourself from the cold. Michael didn't allow himself to be driven by the possessive jealousy that seeing you wearing another man's clothes caused. He knew almost nothing of your past, just that the only thing you could truly call yours were the bandages on your hand and the old, broken knife you refused to part from-. The way your small, slim fingers played with the bandages of your hands told him that you were nervous, again. Myers still had his head tilted, so he straightened it to indicate that he was listening, though outside of that, his body did not react.</p><p>He stared at the way you gulped, watching him intensely now. Specifically, his lips. Michael already knew what you were going to ask, and no matter how good his mood was, he wouldn't let you take off his mas-</p><p>"C-Can I kiss you?"</p><p>What.</p><p>"N-No, w-wait! W-WAIT!" The Shape noticed the way your already red checks flushed even harder, and in a twisted sense it was entertaining to watch you stumble and try to find your words. But no. He didn't say anything, but he already felt the necessity to get you off him, because no, he was not going to take his mask off to kiss you. In fact, he shouldn't had even let you be comfortable enough to think that was a good idea. Before he moved to push you off, you continued talking in a panic, calling his attention. "I-I know you don't want to kiss me with your mask on, I-I am n-not asking to take it off! P-Please don't murder me! P-Please let me e-explain!"</p><p>A second. He seriously considered not hearing you, hand on your waist tightening his hold on your body, the other one gripping one of your palms that were still on your lap. The grip wasn't gentle at all. You winced.</p><p>The chaos in his mind demanded to let you fall ungracefully on the ground, maybe stab you as a consequence for thinking he would ever-</p><p>Another second.</p><p>He tilted his head.</p><p>You didn't waste a moment.</p><p>"Okay, o-okay. H-Hear m-me out, I-I was just-..." You were nervously blabbing, mumbling and stumbling over your words so hard Michael could feel the beginning of a migraine start in his already messy head. It didn't matter how lovely your voice sounded, it was a nightmare to hear you stutter so badly, and The Shape quietly eyed over the Knife he always carried over, lying almost forgotten at his side. It would be easy to let go of your hands, to stretch his arm a little, grip the knife tightly and aim it into your brain to just shut you up. It was tempting, but no. Murdering you would not be permanent, and he would only get nothing but your broken trust and an affection who would surely die out. God, why were you such a pain sometimes? He was staring at you but not really, head becoming a mess of thoughts and wishes, so he didn't notice the way you stopped talking to gain the courage you needed, moving yourself to be on your knees -they fitted perfectly in the space the opened legs of The Shape gave away-, body stretched enough to be able to not need to lift your head too much.</p><p>He blinked, feeling your hands on his cheeks, fingers slowly caressing the mask. He didn't waste time, reflexes making him take a hold of his knife-</p><p>He felt something press against his lips, the contact muffled by the mask.</p><p>Oh.</p><p>The weapon went quietly back at his side, laying in the pavement.</p><p>He didn't close his eyes, so he could see you terrified expression, cheeks bright red, eyelids tightly closed that were definitively holding back tears of pure fear and tiny, bandaged hands holding his face with shaking fingers. Michael couldn't deny that the fear you emanated felt <em>almost </em>as good as the soft contact, and he knew that it would be easy to just shake you off him, to just get you away for being such a big headache. But he didn't. Even with everything just begging him to do the usual Michael Myers mean and murderous behavior that gained him his reputation, he couldn't help but use his hands to hold you closer, fingers gripping your back with a strength so raw that hurt you a little, making you hiss. You knew it would bruise later, badly.</p><p><em>So fragile,</em> he mused quietly in his head, big calloused fingers stretching, feeling the muscles of your back relax even after the rough treatment. He saw you break the kiss to immediately hide your head on his neck, mumbling apologies over and over. He rolled mentally his eyes, everything in his body unmoving save from his chest and his lingering touches with his fingers. You were so annoying, needy and oh so weak, and the affection you offered was so <em>fragile </em>he needed to be careful to not break it with his iron hold.</p><p>Fragile, indeed. But your love and devotion were a addicting drug that he obsessed over, and he refused to let go.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Next:<br/>"¿What's the difference between love and obsession?" You asked, after dancing about the subject with Ghost Face for minutes.<br/>Danny Johnson laughed hysterically, making you slowly frown. You were asking seriously.<br/>"Oh, Cupcake, that's so funny." He said, after he found himself able to talk again. "Difference? You really are hilarious. I understand why Frankie likes to keep you close."<br/>"Johnson-"<br/>He stopped smiling, realizing you were being serious. He said your name slowly.<br/>"I am not joking. There is not a difference between love and obsession." He saw the way your bit your lip, thinking. He already knew what you were about to say. "Oh my god, kid, stop it. That man is obsessed with you, that's already a win. Stop trying to ask for the impossible."<br/>"It was absolutely impossible to make Frank date you after that shitty first meeting you two had, and now the two of you fuck like bunnies." You growled.<br/>He paused at that. "Touché."<br/>[5/15]</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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